Gemotions

The drive home was a blur. She kept replaying the conversation in her head, the words "misidentified" and "incorrect" like a broken record. Her hands tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles white. The road ahead was a ribbon of grey.

She pulled into her driveway, the familiar sight of her house offering no comfort. She sat in the car, unmoving, staring at the front door. The simple act of getting out felt insurmountable. Her chest was tight.

She just wanted to disappear, to rewind the clock, to have never walked into that clinic.